


Enji-iro

by PKA



Series: Kintsukuroi Timestamps [3]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Fluff, I Heard You Guys Liked Porn, M/M, Porn Without Plot, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Shameless Smut, So I Brought You More, These Idiots Are So Disgustingly In Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 09:49:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8157854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PKA/pseuds/PKA
Summary: Will keeps his promise.





	

  


_Tonight_ , he said. He remembers himself saying it. The significance of that word only reaches him during dinner that night.

The candlelight flickers and reflects an orange glow onto the walls. It dims out the world around them and gives it new shape and meaning. It's not the same atmosphere as in Baltimore, the night humid and warm, the table not made from solid wood but from glass; no wine on it, but it doesn't matter. What matters now is them, Hannibal and Will, not what is outside, not the table between them, laden with delicious food and expensive decorations. The warmth of the flame reaches Hannibal's eyes and softens his smile. It emphasizes the hard lines and wrinkles of his face and smooths them at the same time.

Will takes a bite and closes his eyes. Black – orange – black – orange. Colors switch places rapidly behind his eyelids and his brain shows him memories in different versions.

Hannibal has behaved differently today and Will didn't understand why. Now he does. It's anticipation. Nervousness. He is sure Will is going to keep his promise and he has prepared himself with silent adoration.

»Will it be like this from now on?« Will asks.

»Do you want it to change?«

Will opens his eyes. Hannibal's eyes are the color of carmine, like blood. It could remind him of murder, but it reminds him of love.

»You asked me that before. If I craved change.«

Hannibal smiles, the memory still painful. »Do you?«

»No. Not anymore,« Will says. He breaks the spell and looks to the right, out the window, out to the sea. It feels like they just emerged from there. »I'm happy the way it is right now.«

Hannibal takes his hand. His thumb strokes over Will's knuckles. Will looks at him again, wondering why it is so easy. Why they hadn't done this years before, when it's such an effortless affair.

»Do you want it to change?« Will asks back.

»I want it to evolve.«

~ - ~

Will takes a shower before bed. He feels like a maiden preparing to spend her first night with a lover. He desperately wants a drink to calm his nerves. The urge is ignored and he cleans up all the more thoroughly for it.

Afterwards, he makes himself look in the mirror for a long moment. Unhappy with his appearance, he shaves his beard off, exposes the scar the Dragon has left on him. It's unfamiliar, the skin on his face quite sensitive all of a sudden. He hasn't been entirely beardless for a long time. His reflection looks young again, very young with the still long hair - only the scar and the wrinkles around his eyes betray his age. He wishes for candlelight to smooth over these lines as well. Maybe Hannibal has prepared those.

He hasn't. The bedroom looks just as it did last night, with the exception of new sheets. They're carmine too, and Will can just imagine Hannibal debating in his head which color Will would look best against. Maybe he has already spent years thinking about it.

Will enters the room with just a towel around his waist. Hannibal is still fully dressed, standing in front of the window like a businessman contemplating the next big step, hands clasped behind his back. A businessman in jeans and t-shirt. It's a show and an easy to look through one at that. Will feels Hannibal's tension like his own, feels the fluttering in his belly. It shouldn't be so weird, dammit, not after what Hannibal has done to him already, against this very window. The fresh memory makes his cock stir.

Will flips one of the switches next to the door and some of the lamps turn on, illuminating the room with soft, yellow light.

Hannibal turns around then, his face a perfect mask – until he lays eyes on Will.

»Will,« he breathes and they meet in the middle of the room. Hannibal takes Will's face carefully between his hands, strokes over the tender skin. The touch prickles down Will's spine, evokes a breathy sound. Hannibal puts his lips against the scar on his temple, the small one on his cheekbone, the big one on his cheek and lastly, he kisses his mouth.

Will has never been kissed so gently. It takes the entirety of his breath away. Hannibal embraces him and he feels heavy in his arms, bones melted. The ghost of a touch wanders over the skin of his back and Will buries his face in Hannibal's chest. This is very different than before.

»We should have done this in the morning. Now it's so... charged,« Will says. »This approach is somehow a lot harder to deal with.«

Hannibal chuckles softly. »I'm glad we waited.«

»That sounds like...« Will starts before he interrupts himself. It sounds like they waited until their wedding night. He swallows around a lump of feelings he doesn't want to explore.

He looks at Hannibal almost shyly and is met with much the same expression. It's reassuring, somehow, that Hannibal has no clue how this works either.

»I'll be very gentle.« Hannibal actually manages to sound sincere.

Will laughs and tries to pull away. »Fuck off!«

Hannibal pulls him close in answer and kisses him again, some of the tension gone. It turns passionate quickly, their mouths sliding together, their tongues meeting. Hannibal's beard rasps against his skin and it feels just _right_. Maybe their minds don't know how to do this, but their bodies seem to.

Hannibal is unwrapping his towel with the utmost care, like he would a precious gift, and Will shivers when it falls to the ground, replaced by two large, warm hands.

The kiss is broken and Hannibal takes a step back, looking at him. His hands trace over Will's stomach. Will is not as thin as he was a few weeks ago, but recovery is a tedious process. Hannibal's hand wanders lower, skates over his pubic hair.

Will's cock makes a half-hearted attempt of rising to meet him.

Hannibal licks his lips and swallows thickly. His lips stay open. His eyes are very dark. »Get on the bed,« he commands softly.

Will obliges while Hannibal draws the curtains. The room becomes smaller, more private. It's only them now. As it should be.

Hannibal stands in front of the bed for a few seconds, just looking at Will.

»What is it?« Will asks, blush creeping up his cheeks.

»You're lovely and I enjoy looking at you. That is all.«

»God,« Will moans. »Stop it.«

»Was that not your intention when you shaved, Will? To please me?«

Will doesn't answer and doesn't look up while Hannibal strips – fast and efficient.

The mattress dips when Hannibal joins him on the bed. Quick and shallow kisses are laid onto his skin, almost apologetic.

He lies back and lets Hannibal do what he wants to do. He is being touched and kissed from head to toe, Hannibal's reverent lovemaking knowing no bounds. It's worship, and maybe that's just what Will needs. He closes his eyes and allows himself to simply enjoy, allows the gasps and pants to escape freely. His cock is throbbing by the end of it, but it gets no special attention on Hannibal's way back up.

»Beautiful,« Hannibal murmurs against Will's lips. »You're so beautiful, Will.«

Will shuts him up with another kiss, but it doesn't last long. Hannibal is as breathless as Will himself. Will holds onto his shoulders; digs his fingers into unyielding flesh, trying to regain his balance.

»Turn around for me,« Hannibal requests in a velvety voice.

Will does, flustered and already a little shaky.

Hannibal pushes a pillow beneath his groin and then he kisses his way down Will's spine; gives him enough opportunity to mentally prepare this time, before he does that thing with his tongue again.

He is not in a hurry and as eager as before, relishing Will like he would any of his meals, savoring the taste of him. It's as overwhelming as the first time. Will allows his entire body to loosen up, gives in to the pleasure. Relaxed, reedy moans fill the room alongside Hannibal's sloppy sucking sounds. His warm breath hits Will's wet hole in puffs.

Will claws at his own hair when the tip of Hannibal's tongue enters him again. He wants to clench, but forces himself to stay relaxed. His breath hitches and shudders. Hannibal strokes his back soothingly, pulls away to tell him how good he's doing, before he continues to spear Will with his tongue.

Will's cock is leaking onto the pillow and he has to move his hips to get just a little bit of friction. He's thrusting slowly back and forth – being met by the pillow on one side, and by Hannibal's mouth on the other. Will wonders if he could come just from this, and the answer is that he probably could, given enough time. Tonight though, Hannibal has different plans.

It could be minutes or hours, but at one point, Hannibal stops. Will has to bite his tongue to keep from pleading for more. He hears a cap opening and can't help jiggling his ass in nervous anticipation.

The tip of Hannibal's finger is cold at first, but quickly warms against Will's skin. He just strokes against his hole at first, exploring one crease after another, rubbing the lube in. Almost like a massage.

»May I?« Hannibal asks.

Will just nods enthusiastically and buries his head deeper into the sheets.

Hannibal's preparation pans out - his finger glides in pain-free and without effort. It doesn't feel like anything, really, and Will isn't sure he likes it. Mostly, it's just wet and intrusive. He hasn't had an exam like this before, but he can't help thinking about how many times Hannibal has done this to other men – as a doctor or in private.

The sudden pang of jealousy is forgotten once Hannibal brushes over his prostate _just so_. That does the trick. Will bucks his hips in response, a surprised »Fuck« leaving his lips, more grunt than word. He wiggles his ass again; spreads his legs a little further to give better access, wanting more of what Hannibal gives him. His behind is squeezed appreciatively and Hannibal drives his finger in and out again, making sure to always nudge the spot that elicits the most embarrassing sounds from Will.

The damp patch on the pillow beneath Will widens as Hannibal continues to open him up, slowly and with a lot of lube. One finger at first, then two, then three. Straight in and out, then turning inside him, then scissoring. No pain in sight. Will is almost disappointed.

»So good for me,« Hannibal practically coos. »My perfect boy.«

Will does clench at that, embarrassment bringing more heat to his face. He groans unhappily, very glad that they cannot see each other's faces from this position.

» _Hannibal_. Could you just... go on?« Will holds back the »Please?« that wants to come with it – he knows it would sound desperate, like begging.

Hannibal presses his smile against Will's tailbone before he pulls out, judging Will fingered enough. His tongue makes a short reappearance, driving deeper now than before. Hannibal can't get enough of his taste and Will moans at the realization, resisting the urge to grasp Hannibal's hair to shove him even deeper.

When Hannibal pulls away, Will can hear the sound of a condom wrapper being opened and then the cap of the lube again. These sounds aren't particularly sexy, but the following are better: Hannibal slicking himself up and his soft moaning when he touches himself. Dirtier and more carnal. Will does what he thinks is best and tilts his hips, almost presenting himself for the taking. _Like a bitch in heat._ The shame pales in comparison to his need to have Hannibal inside of him.

If he could, he would climb into Hannibal and nestle between his ribs, hidden and safe there, as impossible to cut out as Hannibal's own heart. Always together, with no fear of separation. Conjoined in life and death. A part of him has already made its home in Hannibal, he knows; has scarred him internally, changed him for good, even if he won't admit it.

It isn't enough. It isn't everything, but Will gets a taste of everything when Hannibal finally enters him.

Their breaths hitch simultaneously. The whole world goes quiet for a few seconds, conglomerates into two bodies becoming one.

Hannibal exhales shakily, Will's name on his lips. He makes a pained sound when he slides deeper. Will can almost feel the muscles in Hannibal's stomach contract.

»D-don't you dare come now,« Will moans.

Hannibal bottoms out slowly and now there is pain – a dull ache, mingling with the pleasure of being filled by something long and hard and warm and slick.

Once Hannibal is sheathed all the way inside Will, he embraces him from behind and shifts their bodies onto the side. They lie there spooning for a few minutes, adjusting without talking. Hannibal's breath at his neck is labored. He's already so very close. Will is sure he'd come if he moved only a little.

Will starts getting soft again.

»Hannibal,« he says softly, pleadingly.

And with that he does move.

Small thrusts, almost shy, almost accidental, almost not pulling out at all. Will closes his eyes - there is nothing to see in front of him. This is the position they slept in the night before – drawn back against Hannibal's furry chest, into a tight embrace. He had felt good about it then, but now it's not enough. Hannibal's shallow movements are not enough. It doesn't hurt that bad, but it's not very pleasant, either; doesn't hit his sweet spot like Hannibal's fingers did. Even though they are back to chest - even though Hannibal is warm and solid against him, inside him - it feels disconnected.

Will's cock goes limp. It's fine. Let Hannibal have this. Maybe it's just not for him; maybe he would prefer it the other way around. Will entertains that thought for a moment – Hannibal pliant and panting beneath him while Will penetrates him – it's a pretty picture, but it doesn't get him hard again.

Hannibal doesn't notice at first, too occupied with his own pleasure and that's fine as well. Will kinda likes it, knowing that Hannibal's so distracted because of him.

At some point he reaches around, though, and realizes Will's current state. He stops immediately.

»What's wrong?« he asks, sounding very unsure of himself. »Am I hurting you?«

Will laughs at that, at Hannibal's concern, so ill-fitting. He bites back a remark about how he'll never be able to hurt him as much with his penetration as he did when he entered Will with a knife.

»I'm fine,« he says instead. »Just go on.«

Hannibal pulls out instead and oh, that doesn't feel good. Will is left empty, his rim clenching around thin air, body wanting to be filled again.

Hannibal rolls onto his back and waits for Will to turn around. His cock is deep-red beneath the translucent condom, lying heavy on his stomach. It twitches just from Will looking at it.

Will looks up at Hannibal's face, meets his eyes and that seems to reboot his system. They kiss languidly, and under Hannibal's gentle touch, Will stiffens again slowly. He reaches for the bottle of lube, applies another generous amount to Hannibal's erection and, straddling him, sinks down on him.

This way around, Will feels the pressure against his prostate. He moves up and down tentatively, causing them both to moan in unison. Hannibal's eyes are half-closed in enjoyment. Will feels silly, slightly uncomfortable, to be in this role.

»Take what you need, Will,« encourages Hannibal in a breathy tone.

Will does, with reluctance at first, undulating his hips, gaining confidence as he goes, Hannibal's hands on his hips guiding him a little. So much better this way; Hannibal deep inside of him, hitting him from just the right angle. Will's cock starts oozing milky fluid – not precum, not cum and Hannibal drags a finger over his slit to catch a few of the drops. It's salaciously erotic to see Hannibal bring his thumb to his mouth, licking at it, tasting Will.

»How do I taste?« Will asks, gathering way.

Hannibal almost grins in answer. »Delicious.«

With gaining speed, Will's cock begins to bob obscenely, and at first he touches it only to keep it down. Then he starts stroking himself because it feels too good. He can't stop.

Hannibal looks at him hungrily, licking his lips again, chasing the last bit of Will's flavor, enjoying the show, pupils dilated. His grasp at Will's hips intensifies to the point of hurting, helping him, _forcing_ him up and down his length.

Will leans down to kiss him, holding onto his shoulder with his free hand. He tastes faintly alkaline. Hannibal shifts his grip to Will's ass, tilts his hips up, and starts pounding into him while Will continues to stroke himself, increasing his pace as well.

God, it feels good like this. Hannibal's large hands on him, clawing at his skin, taking control of him. It's a merciless pace already, but Will wants it faster, deeper, harder. He wants to get used.

»Fuck me,« he grits out. _There goes the rest of my dignity_ , he thinks, but he doesn't care. The word feels good on his tongue and so he says it again. »Fuck me, please.« It does sound desperate.

Hannibal snarls, _growls_ and Will doesn't know how, but his thrusts quicken still. Will's brain shuts off, only white noise, pleasure and the unbearable chase after orgasm remaining. He wants to come so very badly, wants to spill all over Hannibal, wants to feed him his spending, wants to see himself devoured and consumed.

They look at each other and Hannibal reads all of his desires, understands them, agrees to them, revels in them. Even when Will finally does come he keeps his eyes open, staring into the bottomless black pits of Hannibal's blown eyes, drinking him in, insatiable for their connection, as the world around him explodes into tiny dots. He sees Hannibal's expression change, sees him become his most feral, just an animal wanting, taking, claiming, doing what nature tells him to do. _Mine._

Will is thrown onto the mattress and onto his back and Hannibal, still inside him, continues to ram into him, now from a different angle, now with Will overly sensitive. Quick thrusts, as deep as he can. Hannibal bows down to kiss him messily, holds onto Will's thighs, splitting his body in two. Will claws at his ass, once he has control over his body again, pushing him even deeper. It hurts, but it feels so _good_ , too.

Every piece of control is lost. He has never felt this way before, not even when he had encephalitis. He barely knows who he is anymore. Although he's climaxed already, he wishes this would never end. They are sweating – Hannibal's perspiring from his brow, his chest glistening, his stomach smacking against Will's softening cock with smutty, slapping sounds. He looks so fucking beautiful and uncontrolled and the only thing that Will can think of right now - that he knows - is how _much_ he loves him.

Will feels like they are liquefying. He can't breathe and Hannibal is choking him with his next kiss and he can't bring himself to stop. He wants to drown in Hannibal' arms as he was not allowed before; wants to turn into water with him and find their way back to the Atlantic. He bites into Hannibal's lip, hard, drawing blood, and then Hannibal comes – shuddering, head thrown back, the most beautiful moan on his split, carmine lips. An almost religious experience.

He falls on top of him and Will loves that too – with how little consideration he is handled now, how much Hannibal forgets his manners. It should feel uncomfortable to have a heavy, too-warm, sweaty body pressing him down, but it doesn't. Hannibal is still inside him, still thrusting a little, and it makes Will feel protected and safe and cared for and loved.

They catch their breaths slowly, Will very still to avoid Hannibal slipping out of him.

»I'm sorry,« he says finally. »For biting you. I didn't mean to.«

Hannibal, head pressed against Will's neck, grasps his hand blindly and squeezes it. »I love you,« he says simply, because it's the only thing that should be said right now, the only thing that makes any sense.

»I love you too,« Will answers, and for tonight, they remain the last words spoken.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my lovely beta [ fragile-teacup](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Gene_Hunt/pseuds/fragile-teacup/)! Her comments continue to delight me!
> 
> Come visit me on my [ tumblr ](http://www.pka42.tumblr.com/)!


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